


Words From Me To You

by Shimegami



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Never Met, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, College, Fluff, M/M, Rin basically is there for like five sentences, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Time Skips, what are side characters lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-23 07:05:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9645614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shimegami/pseuds/Shimegami
Summary: There's a sacred flame in this world that, should a person burn something they've written, those words will appear on their soulmate in some form.  In this modern word, an official ceremony at twelve years old makes it so there is no one who does not mark their soulmate.Nanase Haruka, aged twelve, doesn't know what to write.  What words can you write that will truly convey what a soulmate means, after all?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scarletsaber (sushibunny)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sushibunny/gifts).



When the teacher leads the class to the school auditorium for a “special announcement” during a cold January day, Haru doesn't think much of it. Sure, his classmates are tittering to themselves excitedly, but they do that _every_ day and Haru's long gotten used to tuning them out. So he has absolutely no idea what the announcement is for or why he should care. He doesn't have a single clue until Rin drapes his arm over his shoulder in that touchy way of his, grin sharp and bright and says the words that make everything clear.

“So, what are _you_ gonna write for your soulmate, Nanase?”

Oh. It's Inscription Day. Haru remembers now.

He'd forgotten it was even coming up, frankly. He's never put much thought into the whole ordeal, of writing an inscription that would imprint itself onto his future soulmate's skin. Other people are noisy, demanding, restrictive – he doesn't particularly like the idea that he will be forced to cater to one for the rest of his life. Especially a simpering girl who smells too strongly of roses and shrieks about getting wet. How could anyone be upset over getting wet? Having a personal encounter with water is the best thing, in Haru's opinion.

But no, apparently the day is here, for Haru to dictate someone's destiny. He feels a little...dirty. Distasteful. He frowns.

“Nothing,” he declares to Rin's question. If he doesn't write anything, maybe he won't get a soulmate and he can continue to be free and eat as much mackerel as he wants and swim whenever he likes.

Rin groans, rolling his eyes. “ _Nanase!_ Stop being such a stick in the mud, you know the teachers will never accept that! Everyone has to have an inscription!”

Haru's frown deepens. But he doesn't _want_ an inscription. It's just a bunch of silly nonsense. Why is it so important?

Rin purses his lips for a moment, as if sensing Haru's distaste for the matter, before sighing. “Come on, you have to at least write something. I mean, there's someone out there waiting for their special words. What if they woke up to nothing? They'll think their soulmate's dead! But then they'll meet you anyways, and if they learn you didn't bother writing anything...wouldn't that be really bad? They'd feel terrible, thinking you didn't care enough about your soulmate to even give them words! I'd hate the person who did that to me!”

Haru doesn't really care about being hated, but the thought of how abandoned someone would feel makes him pause. He knows the feeling of not being wanted – logically he knows his parents love him very much, but they always seem to be rushing out the door and staying away from the house on work for weeks on end. He knows working is important...but sometimes he feels that it's _more_ important than he is, to them, and the feeling is bitter and cold like fall rain. He doesn't like it.

Could he live with himself if he made someone else feel like that?

“...I'll write ' _mackerel_ ',” he declares to Rin and tunes out Rin's exasperated sigh and noises – “that's not _romantic_ , Nanase!”, as if Haru cares about _romance_ – as he continues to silently think on the problem as everyone is herded into the auditorium. It is indeed Inscription Day, and the sacred fire to burn their papers is already lit, blue flame dancing in its silver setting almost hypnotically. Excited whispers ripple through all the gathered students, but Haru tunes it out, thinking.

Really, what _can_ he write on someone's skin to mark them as 'his', forever?

He does seriously consider mackerel for a moment – he loves it, after all, and putting something he loves on someone he supposed to love can't hurt, right? Or maybe he should put 'water' or 'swimming'., since he loves those even more than mackerel.

It doesn't...sit right, though. He knows it's romantic to write down passionate declarations of love or possession for the inscriptions, but placing such a blatant mark of what he likes on someone else is too...restricting. They're supposed to be their own person, not a canvas for Haru's own desires. It's their skin – writing something unique to Haru himself feels like he's denying them that. Sure, he doesn't like this whole soulmate mess, and hopes he'll never meet his, but he still doesn't want to be a _bad_ person, or soulmate. He doesn't want to hurt anybody.

He mulls over it throughout the whole assembly, not hearing a word of the principal's passionate speech, or the magistrate's explanation, or even Rin's excited chatter beside him as the little white papers with the special silver ink pens are handed out.

What can he write that will mean the best thing, for both him and his soulmate?

He has absolutely no idea as the minutes tick down, the alloted hour to write their messages almost over. He's one of the few still left in the auditorium – most everyone else had already turned in their papers to be burnt in the sacred fire, to vanish into whatever magic governed the inscriptions and appear as neat black ink on some stranger's skin when they awoke tomorrow, in a perfect replica of the writing on the paper offered. Even Rin had already finished, giving Haru a taunting grin over how 'awesome' his words were and how amazing the person wearing them would be as he left to burn his slip.

Haru stares blankly at the little white paper. What can he write? All the words he can think of seem so trite right now, too demanding or too obvious or too shallow.

Then, in a flash like sunlight off the waves, it comes to him.

He bends over his paper in a hurry, carefully inscribing the four letters in the silver ink provided, wanting them to be perfect. After he is satisfied with his calligraphy, he examines it closely, checking for any smudges or imperfections – it's going to be a permanent feature on someone's skin from now on, he doesn't want it to be ugly.

Satisfied with his letters, Haru nods to himself, before getting up and walking to the stage. The magistrate takes his paper with a clinical smile, folding it up and pressing the stamped seal of the Inscription Office on it, before she turns to feed it to the fire. The little paper Haru spent nearly an hour agonizing over is quickly devoured, going up in a flash of silver sparks to carry his word away on the wind, to its intended recipient. It's beautiful, but oddly unsatisfying. And too short – all too soon he's ushered off the stage so the last stragglers can turn in their slips, and he has no choice but to trudge back to his classroom to continue his lessons like normal, as if he didn't just decide someone's fate single-handedly.

The day is depressingly normal after that. He ignores half the teacher's words like normal, goes home like normal, and eats dinner alone in what is becoming normal as well – his parents are gone for work yet again, and his grandmother hasn't been feeling well enough lately to attend dinner with the family.

It's all so...bleak. And tomorrow, when he wakes up, some part of his skin will belong to a stranger, with any sort of words written on his body. Will they be romantic? Trite? Casual? They are only twelve years old, after all – his mother likes to make fun of his father sometimes for what he wrote on her skin, a lyric from some popular love song at the time. Haru likes to think he has better taste than that, at least, but there's no telling about his future soulmate. He can only hope its not something like the girls his age like to text. And for all he knows, he might not wake up to any words – if someone couldn't write for the ceremony, then there would be no words, so he could have a soulmate who was dead, or incapacitated, or maybe just didn't give a shit like Haru had considered earlier. Thinking about it now, he's glad he decided to write after all – he doesn't like the idea of waking up to nothing after so much anticipation.

With those thoughts and a heavy heart, Haru falls asleep that evening, visions of ugly 'I love you!!!' or 'b mine 4evar' being inked on his skin floating his dreams.

Sleep makes the whole thought fly out of his head, however, and he wakes up just like normal. He doesn't even think about inscriptions until he's in the bathroom, stripping down for his morning bath, and a flash of black catches his eye.

He freezes for a moment, taking deep breaths to steady his breathe and nerves, before he looks down.

His first thought is that his soulmate didn't take the mandatory calligraphy lessons very seriously, because the letters on his skin are spidery, chicken-scratch things that his grandmother would frown severely at. It's not a good first impression, but Haru traces the words, mouthing them to himself with a small sense of wonder.

' _It's meaningless without you_ '

What does it mean? Haru doesn't even know the person who wrote it, how can they have already decided that anything is meaningless without Haru? That's rather jumping the gun, isn't it?

There's also the matter of its placement. While extensive study had been done into soulmate inscriptions and why they appeared where they did on someone's body, no satisfactory explanation had been reached and it was officially declared as 'random'. Random meant, however, that any number of urban legends could spring up about them, and one of the most popular right now is that the closer the inscription to somewhere _intimate_ , the more intimate the relationship would be.

Haru's words are scrawled over his right hipbone, about an inch tall and slanting downward from left to right. It isn't...indecent, but it's certainly not somewhere he can show off in public company. And since inscriptions were mirrored on partners, his soulmate's words would be on their left hipbone. Not easily seen, at all...unless they were swimming. Maybe he'll meet his soulmate at a pool. It's a nice thought. But it's certainly an intimate placement – could such a thing really foretell that? Can he really have such a good relationship with someone who had already decided everything was meaningless without Haru by their side? It seems rather ridiculous.

Still, as he prepares a lonesome breakfast, leaving a plate on the table in case his grandmother felt well enough to get up and eat, and heads to school by himself, he can't help but think that being irreplaceable to someone would be...nice.

It would be nice to be needed, for once.

* * *

Makoto's always wondered who the inscriber of the words on his left hipbone is, neat black English letters spelling out the word ' _free_ '.

He remembers waking up the day after Inscription Day, exhausted from a poor sleep due to his excitement and anxiety over his words showing up, and frantically searching his body for any sign of black. How he got more and more anxious as he couldn't find it on his hands, arms, legs, chest, until he pulled down his pajama pants slightly and saw the tips of black letters. How he'd been too embarrassed to admit to his little twin siblings where his words had shown up when they piled into his room asking him that morning.

He's no longer a nervous twelve-year-old – it's been six years since then, and he's now in his first year of college. He hasn't met his soulmate yet, but it's only a matter of time, he knows. All soulmates meet each other eventually.

Now, will he recognize his soulmate, is another question.

He traces the Roman E that neatly inks his hipbone – far neater than Makoto's own handwriting. He tried to write nicer, he really did, but he always got sloppy and his letters came out sloppy and thin, hasty in his eagerness to share his words. He feels bad, sometimes, to have such a beautiful piece of art on his own hip and staining his soulmate's with his chicken-scratch.

It's an awfully inconvenient place, really – there will be no casual glances at wrists or noticing stranger's necks for Makoto. The only hope of knowing who his soulmate is is if Makoto catches them in some state of undress, which sounds frankly mortifying. What, would he accidentally walk into their changing room or something? How embarrassing! Hardly the stuff of soul-deep romantic bonds.

What kind of person even is his soulmate? Who writes ' _free_ ' when asked to mark their life partner's body with something to know them by? Makoto remembers deciding on his own words – he'd thought about it for at least in month in advance, frantically debating what would be good, memorable, not tacky and cliché. What would mean something?

He'd finally settled on ' _it's meaningless without you_ ' about a week before Inscription Day, feeling that it conveyed what a soulmate _should_ be. A person who made life and all of its experiences truly worth living for. That's what a soulmate should be – someone who made life better just by being there, by your side. Someone whose presence was needed to be complete in life. In the end Makoto's happy with his choice. He wonders if his soulmate understands.

Sighing, he drops the hem of his shirt and fastens his pants properly. He needs to get to class, it's the first week still and he can't make a bad impression by being late. Not to mention the swim team was holding recruitment runs today, and he didn't want to miss out on that either. Giving himself one last glance-over in the mirror, Makoto grabs his bag and heads out his dorm door, intending to go to class.

Unfortunately, his plans are a little delayed when he walks out into the hall and nearly runs over Nanase, the quiet art student who lived in the dorm two doors down from Makoto. Makoto just saves himself from bowling Nanase completely over, but he can't say the same for Nanase's art supplies, which get dropped and scatter over the hall like they're making a break for it.

“Oh my god, I'm so sorry!!” Makoto babbles, immediately dropping to his knees to try to scrabble Nanase's belongings back together, feeling his cheeks flush bright red – mostly from embarrassment from running into someone, but if he's honest it's more because of just _who_ Makoto chose to run into.

Because Nanase is _breathtakingly_ beautiful, possibly the single most stunning human Makoto has ever laid his eyes on, and Makoto would be lying if he wasn't harboring the tiniest crush on the reticent arts major. Fine features, inky-black hair that looks like silk, and of course his fathomless blue eyes that match the sky of a cloudless day.

He's the type of beautiful that feels like he should be plastered on magazine covers, a distant idol – not rooming just two rooms away from Makoto himself. Being so close to someone so pretty makes Makoto wonder dumb things, like where Nanase's inscription is, and what it might possibly say.

Well, Makoto knows it won't be ' _it's meaningless without you_ ', he's not exactly lucky. Nanase deserves someone on his level, not someone like poor simple Makoto. He especially doesn't deserve a first meeting with his soulmate that was them trying their damned best to run him over!

“I'm so, so sorry!” Makoto repeats again, having managed to grab a large portion of Nanase's art supplies, pencil cases and paints cradled in his arms as he holds them out for the artist to pick up.

“It's fine,” Nanase murmurs, kneeling in one graceful movement to also pick up his things, bringing around a blue backpack that he holds open with a gesture, an obvious request to place the supplies inside.

Makoto obliges, biting his lip as he continued funneling scattered art tools and some random books into the backpack. “It's still my fault, so I'll apologize. I wasn't looking where I was going and made you drop everything.” He puts his latest handful in the bag – some strange bird-thing in a speedo with a rock for a head, what was that? – and grabs around for something else to put in, coming up with a handful of silky black material. What was this? Makoto pulled his hand in front of him, looking at what he grabbed. It was...a pair of jammers?

“It's my fault for not closing my bag,” Nanase states simply, voice devoid of inflection as he grabs the swimsuit from Makoto's grasp, folding them and putting them away with significantly more care than the rest of the items he'd been gathering. Makoto blinks, feeling a few things click.

“Um...do you swim by any chance, Nanase-kun?”

Nanase actually looks at him directly at that, and Makoto feels pinned by the intensity hidden in that vivid blue. “Yes. Do you?”

Makoto smiles, secretly pleased he's found common ground with his not-crush. “I do! I was the club captain back in high school. I was going to try out for the swim team later today. I mean, I'm not really suited to be competition, I'm nowhere good enough, but I'd love to be part of the team and swim with friends again!”

“I'll be there,” Nanase states, a little abruptly. Somehow he looks more...alive, than before. Like he's stumbled across someone to share a secret with. “At the tryouts. I want to swim free.”

Makoto blinks at the English pronunciation, feeling suddenly as if there's little tingles running along his skin. There's no way. It's just the nickname for the front crawl, a common enough abbreviation among swimmers, especially ones as avid as Nanase seems to be. It has nothing to do with the black-inked letters on his hip, it can't, no matter how much they tingle. But...

Makoto takes a breath to steel his courage, opens his mouth, just gets started on breathing out Nanase's name, but a harsh tone rings out over the speakers, breaking through Makoto's thoughts like the dive off a starting block, and it's gone.

And Makoto's _late_.

“Shit!” Makoto yelps, wincing at his own language – he'd better fix that instinctual reaction before he visited home and said it in front of the twins, he mother would not appreciate that! – and scrambling to his feet, quickly shoving the rest of Nanase's scattered supplies at him. “I'm really sorry, but I'm late for my first class, I have to go! See you at the pool!”

Makoto rocketed down the hall as fast as his long legs would take him, trying to ignore the feeling that those twin circles of trapped sky were watching him go.

It had to be just his imagination.

* * *

Haru sits on one of the benches lining the school pool, brow furrowing in a rare moment of pensiveness as he halfheartedly towels his hair dry.

Normally getting to stretch his muscles and enjoy the feel of the water is the highlight of Haru's day, but today it is a little dulled. Or rather, out of focus. Which is almost akin to heresy, the water is always first to Haru, and he's a little miffed...but still, he can't quite get the morning out of his head.

Or rather, the who he met this morning. Tachibana.

He'd seen the guy in passing a few times, and is in fact the only name Haru remembers of all his fellow students, but then again it's hard to forget the name of the guy who set fire to the dorm kitchen trying to cook ramen the second night. Haru's pretty sure there's some sort of secret charity fund of 'Keep Tachibana Fed and Out of the Kitchen' rolling around the dorm, because while evacuating at two in the morning had been massively annoying, it was hard to hate someone who seemed to be made of literal sunshine and puppies, and so Haru's never seen the guy cook again, he's always had some sort of takeout or someone's made something for him.

And that was Haru's entire knowledge of Tachibana before this morning, when the guy literally ran into him. And Haru thinks that maybe that whole 'made of sunshine' thing wasn't too far off. He's never met someone who seemed to just radiate such _warmth_.

The look in his eyes, the tone of his voice – even as panicked as he had been about running into Haru – and the fleeting touch of his fingers as he'd shoved Haru's paintbrushes into his hands and ran off babbling about being late. It was all like flashes of sunlight through the trees, and made Haru feel just as warm.

It was massively confusing, and has made Haru confused and slightly irritated all day. Why is he thinking stupid things like this? He just can't get the guy of his head, and he wants to know why. Haru's been attracted to men before, but this is something different. He's never been so thoroughly distracted by a single guy he only just properly met and got a good look at for like five minutes. Not even the water helped, in either figuring out the problem or forgetting, and that's twice as annoying.

Scowling, Haru gives up on his hair, not caring about the drops falling off the strands onto his shoulders, and stands up, dropping the towel around his neck. Well, though Tachibana said he'd be here, Haru hasn't seen him yet...though to be fair, he had kind of zeroed in on the water once he saw it, longing for its healing touch, and only after it failed did he return to pondering his problem. Now that his entrance into the team was secured, Haru had nothing else to do here – sadly, the pool would be closed again after the tryouts were finished and the team wouldn't practice until next week, which again was heresy in Haru's opinion – so he might as well change and go home. Maybe he'd meet the guy in the dorm again.

Walking into the locker room, Haru headed for the locker that was newly his, wanting to just go home and binge on mackerel and paint a billion lily pads to get stupid Tachibana's stupid green eyes out of mind, but he only just opened the small metal locker when he was almost ran over. Again.

“Oh no, I'm so sorry!”

That voice. Tachibana.

Steadying himself on the lockers, Haru closed his open locker that had blocked his right-hand view to come face-to-face with the unknowingly source of his troubles. Upon seeing Haru, those green eyes widened.

“Oh, Nanase-kun! I ran into you again! I'm so, so sorry!”

He babbles more apologies, but Haru stops listening, instead enraptured by the sight in front of him. Tachibana is also obviously fresh from tryouts, grey striped towel over his own shoulders like Haru's, and water drops carving sinful paths down an extremely well-chiseled chest. Haru is no stranger to half-naked men, and came to terms long ago with the fact that he liked what he saw, but... _damn_. Is this what Rin means when he calls something ' _league of its own_ '?

Tachibana's clad in full-length jammers with green stripes, the same brand Haru himself wears, which is another point in his favor – though to be honest, there aren't many negatives, besides the whole 'set fire to the dorm once' thing, and since Haru can cook well enough for the both of them that's pretty ignorable.

Tachibana says something else, and Haru means to acknowledge him this time instead of just oogling him, he really does, but then something else catches his eyes. Something that makes the ground abruptly feel a little less solid than it was before.

There's an English 'e' poking out of the top of Tachibana's jammers, curling over his left hipbone. The color, the consistency...it's an Inscription. Normally something Haru wouldn't care about, but...the placement. An exact mirror from Haru's own. And in a handwriting that looks...familiar. He suddenly thinks of a January six years where he spent so long agonizing over what to write on his soulmate's skin, and what he eventually wrote.

' _Free_ ', in English. His favorite stroke, the only way he swam, but more importantly what he valued the most, what he hoped his soulmate would feel.

If...if that's written on Tachibana's hip, then...

“Nanase-kun?”

Tachibana's voice finally breaks through Haru's minor existential crisis, and he snaps his view back up to the other's face. He looks understandably flustered, face bright red, but there's something more important right now.

“Take off your swimsuit,” Haru demands.

Okay, he could have worded that better.

Tachibana gapes at him, face going from simple red to nuclear meltdown. “E-Excuse me!?”

Haru steps closer, reaching out to tug down Tachibana's jammers himself, but the high-pitched squawk he gets as Tachibana scuttles backwards makes him realize that's probably not socially acceptable, kind of like that whole 'don't strip and try to climb in public fountains Haru goddamn' thing Rin keeps yelling at him for. Haru huffs, biting his lip and feeling a little frustrated. He wants to confirm this, but he doesn't know how to _say_ it. He's always been terrible with words...will it ruin his chances with his soulmate now? Has it ruined Tachibana's life up until now? If Haru's handwriting is on Tachibana's hip, will Tachibana be happy with that?

“I...” He starts, then stops, pursing his lips. How to say it? He always thought he wouldn't care when faced with his soulmate, but with the reality of Tachibana in front of him, the possibility that someone real, someone like _this_ , would be his soulmate...suddenly, Haru wants to care. He wants to, a lot.

“Free,” He mumbles, and Tachibana goes very still, eyes wide. Haru looks up to meet those peridot pools – what a silly thing, to remember the color exactly – and takes another step closer. This time, Tachibana doesn't step away. “I wrote it because I didn't want to own anyone. To...claim them, without their permission. Have...you felt that way?”

Tachibana doesn't respond for a moment, and Haru drops his gaze, feeling shy. He hopes he just hasn't blabbed all this and Tachibana ends up with a completely different word on his hip. Because that would be kind of unbearable now, Haru thinks. Now, when Haru has finally felt like he might actually want to know someone as something more than just friends, for the first time. He grabs the hem of his jammers, the single kanji of 'you' poking out over the top. The whole phrase spelling out...

“'It's meaningless without you',” Tachibana whispers, and Haru's time stands still.

He looks up with wide eyes, to Tachibana, who has his hands over his mouth, looking like his entire world has changed. Haru wonders if he looks similar. He certainly feels like he's shocked enough to cry.

This is his soulmate – a clumsy, sweet guy who somehow burns ramen, and then Tachibana breaks out into a tearful smile and it's the most beautiful thing Haru's ever seen. Not even water can compare – he almost thinks that's heresy too, but then Tachibana laughs and that's even more beautiful too.

“I feel free now,” Tachibana says, and Haru feels himself relax, a rare smile threatening to creep onto his lips. “I wrote mine because I wanted my soulmate to feel needed. Have you felt needed, Nanase-kun?”

“I do now,” Haru mutters, cheeks flushing, and Tachibana laughs again, a light, bell-like sound. He steps forward once more, causing Tachibana's breath to hitch, close enough to feel that, to feel the warmth radiating off the taller male. He really is just so _warm_.

He reaches up to lightly touch Tachibana's shoulder, confirming that he really exists. To find his soulmate here, in a pool locker room...well, maybe the water was looking out for him after all. It brought them together, after all.

“It's really you,” Tachibana breathes, and Haru understands the sentiment. “My soulmate is really you, Nanase-kun.”

“Haru,” He says, and Tachibana blinks. “My name. Nanase Haruka, but that's too girly, so just call me Haru.”

Tachibana breaks out into a smile, laugh soft in his voice. “Tachibana Makoto. Please take care of me from now on, Haru.”

Haru closes his eyes and leans against Tachibana – _Makoto_ – and for the first time he feels like his words have finally properly been conveyed, as the inked letters touch their writers for the first time.  He feels like he's never known true warmth before this.

"I almost wrote mackerel," Haru says, and Makoto laughs, and Haru can't help the smile this time.

**Author's Note:**

> My MakoHaru Valentine 2017 Submission! Hope you like it!
> 
> Fun fact: Rin's words were "See you at the Olympics!" and he causes a shitload of trouble and angst with it. Up to you just who he caused it with~


End file.
